Officer Down!
by charli911
Summary: Someone is gunning for the men and women of the CHP. Station 51 is on the scene as the action heats up and bullets are flying!


_**OFFICER DOWN **_

C.H.i.P.s crossover with Emergency!

_**Author's notes:**_ Although these shows were set in the early 80's, I've incorporated some modern dispatch procedures. I hope you don't mind some literary license here. It doesn't really effect the story, but it's what I'm familiar with as a police dispatcher myself. And I hope to get away from the stereotypical dispatcher from that one episode where Ponch was dating the blond bimbo. Please excuse my effort to make the dispatchers seem more professional. It's been ingrained in me over the last 30 years of doing this job. So sue me! The dispatchers portrayed are actually based on ones that I have worked with and have dealt with this kind of call during their careers. I can only hope I would handle it that well if it ever happens to me… thank god, it never has…I pray it never does.

You'll notice that the police in the story mostly wear Kevlar vests. This wasn't standard practice yet in the late 70' and early '80's. But I wanted it available for the guys here.

Some terms you should know in case you haven't seen the show in a while or could never figure out what the guys were talking about when they used codes:

10-4: pretty standard, just an acknowledgment that the message was understood

10-33: emergency radio traffic…all officers are supposed to stay quiet so that the officer calling

10-33 can get his message to the dispatcher

211-CA state criminal code number for Robbery…as in "211 in progress"

415-CA state criminal code number for a Disturbance..as in "415 in progress", often used when people are fighting.

187-yada,yada…for Homicide

10851- yada yada… for Stolen Vehicle (read ten-eight-fifty-one)

TA- Traffic Accident

Tac 2- Tactical Radio Frequency #2

Radio dispatcher, radio operator…same thing

"break" when a dispatcher uses that during a broadcast, it means she changing who's she calling…or she's putting out a lot of information at once, so she 'breaks' to give officer a chance to call in if they have a 10-33 (see above) ...you'll see what I mean as you read that scene

If you see anything else in here you don't understand, pls email me and I'll be glad to clear it up…keeping in mind that I don't know CA highways and bi-ways, so if some of these streets don't exist or don't intersect, forgive me. I'm making it up as I go along.

Disclaimer: I do not own the men and women of Emergency! or C.H.i.P.s and only use them here for the purposes of entertainment. No money is made and I hope the creators, writers and actors appreciate that they're creations still resonate with fans after all these years.

* * *

He flew back against his patrol unit as the bullets slammed into his chest. Blood immediately began to soak his tan uniform shirt as he slid down the side of the black & white car to settle on the ground.

Cars on the freeway began slowing, drivers not quite believing what they'd just witnessed. Other cars behind them honked to get them to speed up again. Some cars stopped, their drivers jumping out and looking around, not sure what to do. A couple ran toward the officer now crumpled on the ground in front of his patrol car.

Only one car moved swiftly. And that was the one holding the men who had just fired the shots that felled the trooper.

In the communications center several miles away, the radio dispatcher was busy assigning units to the myriad of calls before her. A frantic voice screamed into her ear through her headset.

"Somebody help! An officer's been shot! Help! Can anybody hear me!"

"Person calling," the dispatcher replied calmly, even though her heart had just leapt into her throat. "You need to calm down and tell me where you are." The dispatcher stood up in front of her radio console, keeping her ear tuned to the call, while searching for her supervisor to let him know what was going on. "I have an officer down!" she called across the room.

Everyone else in the center looked up. It was a dispatcher's nightmare.

As she sat back down in front of her radio, she was quickly joined by her supervisor and another dispatcher who would help coordinate the incident. As the same time, the other dispatchers in the room were broadcasting an "Officer Needs Help...Officer Down" call to the units on their own radio frequencies, telling them to standby for further information.

"Please, help us! The officer is bleeding!" the woman cried again.

"Ma'am, please, you need to tell me where you are. Do you know your location?"

"Oh, god, I don't know! I'm from Pittsburgh!" Several seconds passed, and the dispatcher could hear voices in the background. "…anybody know where we are. I'm not from around here, where are we? Please, we have to get some help…"

Another voice came over the radio then. "Dispatch, this is off-duty firefighter Marco Lopez. There's an officer shot here. We're westbound on Ventura freeway, just east of exit 38. The officer has been shot twice in the chest. There is an off-duty LA County paramedic checking him now."

"Firefighter Lopez, I copy westbound Ventura, just east of exit 38. Thank you." She glanced up to be sure the others heard the location, before speaking to Lopez again. "Did anyone see the shooter? And can you give me the unit number on the rear of the patrol car?" While she waited for Lopez to check, she continued to broadcast information. "…break….all units, 10-33, officer down. Westbound Ventura Highway just east of exit 38. Repeat, Officer down, officer shot, westbound Ventura Highway just east of exit 38." She looked up when her supervisor tapped her on the shoulder holding up two fingers. She nodded her understanding. "All units responding to Officer Down, switch to Tac 2…Repeat, this incident switching to Tactical Frequency 2."

The other radio operator had taken up position at a different radio console. He would take over all radio traffic concerning the shooting, so that the radio zone dispatcher could continue to handle her routine radio calls. Not that anything would be routine the rest of the day. Most patrol officers in the area were now speeding to the scene of the shooting, as always happened when an cop went down.

She then checked her computer screen. She remembered an officer calling out on a traffic stop in that area just a couple minutes ago. Policy dictated that when an officer was on a traffic stop, dispatchers were supposed to check on their status at the five-minute mark, to be sure everything was okay. She needed to assure herself that she'd done everything she could. There would be a debriefing and they would ask those questions. She ran her finger down the list of on-duty units.

_Ventura Freeway…there it is…Turner, Jed…Damn!_ She knew him. She pictured his face. She remembered that she almost always saw him with a smile on that face, his teeth white against his dark skin. A good looking guy and always respectful of his dispatchers. But maybe it wasn't him. It could be an officer who didn't call in that he was on a stop. Not that it mattered. It was still an officer down. _Please let him be okay. Whoever it is, please, God, don't let him die._

She noted that the trooper had called in the stop just two minutes prior to all hell breaking lose. _Shit, they must have fired on him as he got out of his car, _she thought_. He didn't stand a chance._

"Dispatch, the unit number is 8812, that's eight eight one two. Also, the paramedic is requesting Lifeflight be called." Double checking Turner's unit number, she verified that he was the one down. She sent a priority message to the Tac 2 dispatcher to give him that info, and the vehicle description and license plate that he'd called in.

"Copy that Lopez. We have units enroute and Lifeflight has been alerted," she told the firefighter, reading the message that had been sent to her via her computer screen from her supervisor to let her know the chopper was getting airborn. The supervisor was familiar with that area and knew the helicopter would be quicker than any ambulance in getting the officer to the hospital.

"Dispatch, I have partial suspect vehicle information also, from citizens who witnessed the shooting. You ready to copy?"

"Go, ahead."

"Several witnesses saw a red sportscar, possibly a Ford Mustang, two male occupants. Apparently your officer was on a traffic stop with the vehicle. After the shooting the vehicle pulled a u-turn and left going eastbound. Partial license plate, a California plate number D, as in David, 4-3-5, last three letters unknown. Copy?"

"Copy, Lopez, red vehicle, possible Ford Mustang, partial California, David four three five. Can you advise any update on the officer's condition?" she asked as she quickly typed a message to send the information to the other dispatchers in the room for broadcast, including the vehicle registration she'd pulled up when he first pulled the vehicle over. At least the witnesses' descriptions matched with what the officer had called in. _I hope they find the bastards_, she thought as she typed.

"Standby one, I'll check." Several seconds passed while the dispatcher tapped her fingers on the desktop. "Dispatch, be advised officer is semi-conscious, labored breathing. Your first units are arriving now."

"Copy, firefighter Lopez, thanks for the assist." She looked up at the clock. Three minutes. Just three minutes since the initial, hysterical call from the woman over the officer's radio. Just one hundred and eighty seconds and her day had gone straight to hell. She found herself taking several deep breaths. Her part in this disaster was finished for now. The radio operator on Tac-2 would handle logging all the officers on the call, figuring out who was doing what and making sure every angle was covered. And the supervisor was contacting the public relations officer, since the media would be all over this. And he called the chaplain's office. Even if the officer lived, notification to his family would be done in person.

She looked at her computer screen, seeing the changes being made as she watched. Almost all the units on her zone were now logged to the shooting and would be until released by their sergeant. Any radio traffic they sent would be monitored by the Tac 2 dispatcher. _They're Brian's responsibility now_, she thought, as she looked over at her fellow dispatcher, sitting at the tactical radio position, engrossed in his work.

She didn't like it, but that's the way it worked sometimes. Any large incident was always switched to a tactical frequency and the relief dispatchers took over the calls. She knew that she wouldn't have much to do for the next couple of hours, since most of her units were either on the scene of the shooting or on their way. As things calmed down, they would come back to her air, but until then she would be dispatching only emergencies. She took the respite to get her thoughts together.

_That firefighter, Lopez, said that a paramedic was on the scene. That was good. At least he had medical help there almost immediately. Thank God for that!_ She quickly tapped on her keyboard, sending a message to the Tac 2 dispatcher, asking him to keep her informed of the officer's condition. She knew he was busy over there, probably too busy to even read her message right away, but she hoped he would understand. And she knew he did when he looked up from his screen and gave her a quick smile and nod. Yes, he knew exactly what she was feeling.

* * *

There was blood all over the asphalt in front of the police cruiser. Bonnie Clark looked down at the puddle of red sticky mess as it slowly trickled toward the grass on the side of the roadway. She closed her eyes, hoping to push away the vision of Jed Turner lying on the ground.

"Bonnie, he's gonna be okay," a quiet voice told her. She gave a sad smile and looked into the green eyes of the man standing next to her.

"He better be, Jon," she told her friend and co-worker, Jon Baker. He reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Or I'll have to hurt him."

"Think positive, Bonnie. John Gage said he was stable when they put him in the chopper."

"I know, but he lost so much blood." She couldn't keep her eyes from wandering back to the red asphalt. "Damn it, Jon, this pisses me off! We have to find these bastards!"

"We will, Bonnie. Everyone will be working on this. Guys are coming in off-duty to help with the investigation."

She nodded. She knew all that. But it didn't help calm her anger.

"Hey, Ponch and I have to stick around since we were first on scene. Why don't you head over to the hospital with Bear?"

"I have to get back on patrol."

"Bonnie, look at the time. We were off-duty thirty minutes ago. Go back and change, then head to the hospital."

Slightly confused, she looked at her watch. She hadn't realized how late it was. They'd been on scene for three hours, searching for clues to the shooters. An LA County Sheriff's Deputy had located the vehicle, abandoned, about five miles away. It was now at the county garage being processed by the forensics unit.

"What about his folks?"

"Getraer and Chaplain Davis are on their way to make notification now. They'll probably be at the hospital by the time you get there."

"Oh, Jon, this is gonna kill his mother. You know how sick she's been."

"All the more reason to have a familiar face there. Look, Bonnie, I know this is gonna be hard. But Abigail knows you. It would probably help to have you there with her while she's waiting for word on Jed."

"I can do that," she said, unsure if she was trying to convince herself or Baker. "I can do that." She was determined to help in any way she could and she knew this would help Jed. He would be less likely to worry about his mother if he knew she was with someone Jed trusted. And she knew Jed trusted her, as he did any of the others. But Bonnie knew Abigail better than the others. The older woman had been her teacher for three years in high school. She had, in fact, been one of the few people who encouraged her to get into law enforcement. Yes, she could be there for Abigail.

She reached up and patted Jon's hand where it still rested on her shoulder. Giving him a small smile, she turned toward her patrol unit, parked on the shoulder a quarter of a mile away. "I'll be at the hospital if anybody's looking for me. Call me if you get anything okay. I want to be there when they find the sons-of-bitches."

"I will Bonnie," he promised.

She just waved and trotted to the car, hurrying now, because she wanted to be at the hospital when Abigail got there. Jed's mother lived quite a distance from Los Angeles. Bonnie figured it would take about four hours for her to get to the hospital. Bonnie decided to go directly there rather than going back to the station first. She didn't want Abigail to spend any time waiting alone. Oh, she knew that a great many officers and brass would be there, but it wasn't the same as being there with someone you knew. This type of vigil was hard enough on the families. Bonnie was determined that Abigail would have friends around her.

* * *

The next morning, Johnny Gage walked into Fire Station 51 and headed straight for the coffeepot. Once he poured and sweetened the cup, he walked back to the phone and dialed Rampart.

"Dixie McCall, please," he said to the person who answered the phone. Moments later, "Hey, Dix, John Gage. Any word on Jed Turner?…Yeah? Great, I'm glad to hear that. What about pneumonia?…I figured as much. But otherwise he's okay?…uh huh…uh huh…" While he continued his conversation, the rest of his squad entered the kitchen. Both the engine and squad were out of quarters, C shift obviously had gotten a late call.

"Okay, Dix, thanks. Can you call the station if you hear anything else?... I appreciate it... Thanks." He hung up and joined his colleagues at the table. Chet Kelly had brought in donuts and he grabbed one.

"Was that about that cop, Johnny?" Marco asked.

"Yeah. Dixie said he's still in ICU, but he's conscious now. They're keeping an eye on him because of the lung damage, to make sure pneumonia doesn't set in."

"What cop?" asked Mike Stoker, A shift's engineer.

"Jed Turner, Highway Patrol officer. He was shot yesterday. Marco and I were in the area when it happened and stopped to help. Took two slugs in the chest."

"Damn. Turner. He works with Bear and Jon Baker, doesn't he?" asked Kelly.

"Yeah, in fact Jon and Ponch were the first ones on scene."

"Did they find the guy who shot him?" asked Hank Stanley, their Captain.

"Not as of midnight. They found the vehicle. Baker told me that it had been stolen. Jed pulled them over, not sure why. From the information they got, he must have been shot before he even made it up to the car."

"So, you treated him?" Stanley asked.

"I did what I could. It wasn't much, since I didn't have any equipment. He was lucky. The bullet missed his heart, but hit a lung. And Squad 48 was close-by, on their way back from an inspection. We got him stabilized and Lifeflight got him to Rampart within 15 minutes."

"You did a good job, Johnny," Marco assured him. "At least you were able to slow the bleeding a bit. That had to have helped."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So, then what's bothering you, Johnny?" asked Roy DeSoto, Gage's partner. He knew that Jed Turner was Johnny's friend. Hell, Roy considered himself Turner's friend as well.

When Gage had called him last night to tell him what happened, he knew his partner had been concerned that he hadn't been able to do enough.

Gage rolled his coffee cup between his hands, staring into the brown liquid.

"When I was talking to Baker last night, he told me that this had been the fourth CHP officer shot in the last month. Three of them were shot in the Sacramento area. Each one was shot on a Tuesday, just like Jed. And two months ago, three others had been shot near San Francisco. They think it might be the same people doing the all the shootings."

"Did any of them die?"

"Yeah, 1 of the guys in Sacramento did. The other two lived. But one of the officers in San Francisco, a female, was paralyzed. She won't ever walk again. Jon said she'd only been on the force for two years."

"Three in each place..." Stanley said, trailing off in thought.

"Yeah, that's what has the guys here spooked. If these guys stay with their pattern, they'll shoot two more officers before they disappear. Baker and the rest of them are determined that that won't happen here. I hope they're right. I really don't want to see another of my friends bleeding to death on the highway."

* * *

The briefing room was quiet when Sgt Joe Getraer walked in. That was unusual. He often had to silence Poncharello and Artie Grossman, each trying to outdo the other with their stories. But today, he could almost see the black cloud that hung over them. Jed Turner was one of their own.

During previous briefings over the past month, he had read the earlier reports of the shootings in the northern part of the state. And he knew his officers had been affected by the attacks on those officers. But it had now been drilled home to them in a most dramatic way. They knew Jed Turner. He was one they always depended on for backup. He was one of their best. And he was hurt. Thankfully, he seemed to be improving. But that didn't alter the fact that he'd been shot. And each and every one of these men and women knew it could have been them. Could be them next time. He shook those thoughts away. _Don't borrow trouble, Joe,_ he thought to himself_. Deal with the present_.

"Okay, people. First item, I just spoke to the hospital. Turner is improving and they think he'll be transferred out of ICU within the next 48 hours."

Murmurs of relief swept around the room.

"Second, we have a few new directives due to the situation. As you know, the pattern has been three shootings in a city, then the perps vanish. We want to stop that pattern, here and now. Previously, these guys have targeted lone officers. So, we are adding several officers per shift, so that back-up is faster. These officers will overlap sectors. Any traffic stops are to be two-officer minimum. I don't want anyone doing a traffic stop on their own, except in extreme emergencies.

"Next, we have once again forwarded the request for Kevlar vests. You all know that this has been an on-going thing for several months. Still no response."

"Too late for Turner now anyway," a voice called from the back of the room.

"It's all politics and budget concerns. You all know that. But we are continuing to fight for department supplied vests. I know many of you are trying to save money to purchase your own. I commend you for that. I just wish there wasn't a need for it." He sighed as he looked around at his officers, then continued with the briefing.

"Last, keep in mind, we're still not 100% sure that this shooting in connected to the ones up north. Although the MO is similar, almost identical in fact, we won't know for sure until we can talk to Jed and show him the composites from the earlier attacks. So, in the meantime, we're still going through past cases and investigating any suspects that have threatened him. And of course it could just be that these guys had something to hide or the fact that they were driving a stolen auto. Keep your eyes and ears open out there people. And cover each other's backs. I don't want to be visiting any more of my people in the hospital. But stay professional at the same time."

"Same old, same old," Poncharello replied.

"Exactly. Do your usual good job. I want to see you all here at the end of shift."

Getraer finished the briefing and dismissed his shift to hit the streets. He knew that Jed Turner would be on their minds during the day. Hell, he would be on Getraer's as well. He hated it when one of his people got hurt; but it was especially bad when it happened like this. By the time he'd arrived on the scene, they'd already had Jed loaded up on the helicopter, so he didn't see him until after surgery. But it had been his duty to accompany the chaplain to contact Jed's family.

That was always the worst part of his job. It made him think about his own family being notified if something every happened to him. He knew his wife was strong. She was, even now, at the hospital herself, with Abigail Turner. He just hoped she never had to be a strong widow.

"Seven-Mary-Three, in pursuit of a possible DUI driver, NB on Valley Freeway passing Box Canyon Rd. Blue Camaro, California license 4-David-Henry-Ida-6-2-3."

"Seven-Mary-Three, 10-4. Break. All units, Seven-Mary-Three in pursuit DUI, NB Valley Freeway from Box Canyon Rd. Blue camaro, 4-David-Henry-Ida-6-2-3."

"Seven-David. I'm five miles north of them. I'll try to intercept."

"Seven-David, 10-4."

Baker and Poncharello chased the Camaro as it darted in and out of traffic. The driver accelerated as the traffic thinned out and the motor officers pushed to catch up. They knew that Baricza would try to intercept the sportscar, but wanted him stopped before he caused an were coming up to an area where the road curved to the left and Baker lost sight of the vehicle for a moment. The next second, he heard squealing tires and then the sound of screeching metal. As he and his partner rounded the curve, they saw the Camaro just coming to rest on its hood several feet off the shoulder.

They slowed their speed and pulled to the side of the road. Baker radioed dispatch to give them their position and get paramedics started their way. Poncharello hopped off his bike and headed toward the overturned sportscar to check on the driver. When Baker was finished, he made a quick check of the other vehicles on the road. He could see Grossman pulling up and a patrol car not too far behind him. He told Artie to check for any more victims, then raced over to help his partner.

Ponch was on his stomach, his arm reaching into the car, searching for a pulse on the driver.

"Paramedics are on the way," Jon advised his partner as he ran to the other side of the car to check on the passenger. They knew it would be several minutes before the fire department boys showed up. Both men in the Camaro were still alive, the passenger now screaming in pain.

Bear had made his way to the scene and was directing traffic with Grossie and Bonnie. He looked up when he heard more sirens and saw the paramedic squad, followed by the engine. He was glad to see it was Gage and DeSoto in the squad.

Roy stopped the squad truck just behind Baker's motorcycle. Both men got out and began pulling their gear from the side compartment.

"What do we have, Bear?" Roy called.

"Two victims, both in the overturned car. Jon said both were conscious and one is in a lot of pain." Roy nodded. Both men could hear the screams.

Even though there was no sign of smoke or flames, Kelly and Lopez were told to pull the inch-and-a-half, just to be safe.

Stanley and Baricza helped the paramedics carry their equipment to the car, each taking a backboard and cervical collar that DeSoto had pulled out and handed to them. The paramedics split up, each taking one victim. They quickly checked for injuries, jotted down vitals and looked to see if both could be removed safely. Gage's patient was pinned under the dashboard.

"Cap, we're gonna need the jaws to get this guy out of here," he called. Stanley came over and crouched down next to him.

"We shouldn't have any trouble pulling it off of him. I want to wash the area down first, though. We've got gas leaking out back there," he said, pointing over his shoulder to a spot at the rear of the vehicle.

Stanley radioed to Kelly and Lopez to bring down the hose and the equipment. Chet dragged the inch-and-a-half down, while Marco went to the engine to grab the locker carrying the Jaws of Life. Meanwhile, DeSoto and Gage readied their patients for transport, putting on the "C" collars. Roy contacted Rampart to relay the patients' vital signs.

Once the area had been washed down, Baricza helped DeSoto remove the driver from the vehicle and they carried him to the waiting ambulance. The passenger had stopped screaming, but only because he had passed out. Kelly handed Gage a blanket, which he draped over the unconscious man. Then he finished loosening and removing the glass that hadn't fallen out on impact. He wrapped a large chain through and around the frame, then attached each end to the open jaws. He nodded to Marco. Turning on the power, Lopez hit the switch, drawing the chain ends together, which subsequently pulled the dash away from the patient. Gage, under the blanket, kept his hand on the man's legs to judge when the limbs were free.

"That's got it," he yelled. Kelly signaled to Lopez with a chopping motion across his throat. The noise from the machine shut off and Johnny removed the blanket from his victim. With help from Stanley and Kelly, the man was moved onto a backboard and strapped down. He was placed into another ambulance, since DeSoto and the driver had already left in the first one. Kelly would follow behind them in the squad.

Five minutes later, both patients were at Rampart Hospital. DeSoto met Gage and Kelly in the hallway and were heading out the door when dispatch called.

"Squad 51, what's your status?"

Gage keyed the radio. "Squad 51, in service."

"Squad 51, gunshot wound, Northbound Valley Freeway, two miles north of Box Canyon Rd." The three firemen looked at each other. That was the location they had just left.

"Squad 51. Is that the same scene as before?"

"Affirmative, 51. CHP has an officer down at that location."

"Shit!" Gage muttered. He raised the radio again as the men quickly made their way to the squad parked outside the ER entrance. "Squad 51, enroute," he told the dispatcher. The men were in the squad and on their way within seconds.

"Squad 51, also be advised, CHP says the shooters are still on scene, so be sure to approach from the south and stay in the right lane."

"Squad 51, 10-4."

"I wonder who it is this time," Kelly said over the noise of the siren.

"Doesn't matter," said Roy. "Whoever it is, our job is to help." The others just nodded, knowing that one of their friends had been shot, and they didn't know how badly that friend was hurt.

Within minutes they were rolling up on the scene. They could hear sporadic shots being fired by at least two men who were hiding behind a vehicle. The car was on its side, the back end resting perilously against a concrete abutment of the overpass, the undercarriage visible from the roadway. The vehicle wobbled every time one of the suspects leaned against it. Several CHP and LA County Sheriff Patrol cars were already there, trying to contain the suspects and stop traffic coming in from both directions. They already had an officer down, they didn't need innocent motorists shot as well. As the officers got traffic stopped, the squad slowly made its way forward, anxious to stay out of the line of fire.

Baricza crouched behind a patrol car parked sideways on the road about100 feet from the suspects. He raised his hand, ordering the squad to stop as it traveled down the shoulder passed stalled traffic.

"Keep down and bring your gear," he called to them.

Five police cars were stretched across the highway, about a dozen cops, plus Captain Stanley seeking cover behind them. Marco and Stoker crouched by the engine, which was a little further up along the shoulder.

Roy and Johnny grabbed their gear while crouching down next to their own squad truck, then quickly joined Bear behind the patrol car, Kelly making his way over to where Stoker and Lopez waited.

"Where's our victim, Bear?" Johnny asked.

"Victims, plural. Bonnie and Jon Baker."

"Damn. Where are they?"

"See that trashed patrol car in the ditch? They're under it." He pointed to his right to a vehicle about halfway between the patrol cars and the suspects. The front end was partially in a shallow ditch that was next to the shoulder. "We were finishing the cleanup and suddenly this car just raced around everybody and started shooting."

"Do you know how bad they're hit?" Roy asked.

"Not sure about Jon, he was the first one to go down. After the suspects crashed, they started taking potshots at him. I think they hit him another time. Then Bonnie jumped in her car and drove it between Jon and the perps. She got hit as she was getting out of the vehicle on this side. Not sure if it was a bullet or flying glass, but she was bleeding from the left arm."

"Any ideas on how we can get to them?" DeSoto inquired.

"We can't get anything out there," Bear said in frustration. "Everytime somebody moves that way they start shooting. We can't tell how much firepower they have. They may have enough to keep us pinned all day."

"Do you have radio contact with them?" Roy asked.

"Yeah, but we're not getting any response. Not sure if they're unconscious or their radios have been damaged."

"Has anyone tried to make voice contact with them?" Gage asked.

"Yeah," answered Sgt. Getraer, who had joined them, having slowly and carefully made his way to the unit they were behind. "Everytime we try to talk to them, the brainless wonders over there start shooting and we can't hear any reply."

"Is there any chance we can get a radio to them?" Roy asked.

"I don't see how. The only way to do it would be to throw it and that would probably just damage the radio."

Two shots rang out, causing everyone to duck even lower behind their shelter. Several long moments passed as each man tried to think of a solution. As he glanced around, Bear's eyes landed on the squad truck, where a length of rope was partially handing out of an open compartment. It had obviously been knocked off its hook in Roy and Johnny's haste to removed their equipment without getting shot.

"What about the rope?" he said, pointing to the squad.

"What about it?" Getraer asked, confused.

"Tie the radio to it, throw the rope over and let Bonnie drag the radio to her."

Getraer looked at Bear, at the squad, toward the area where Bonnie and Jon were holed up, then back at Bear. He weighed the options.

"It's worth a try. Bear, carefully, and I mean very carefully, work your way over to the SWAT unit and ask them if we can borrow two radios. And grab a couple of extra vests for our friends here," he said, indicating DeSoto and Gage.

Baricza made his way to the Sheriff's SWAT van that had pulled up just seconds earlier. They'd been lucky. The SWAT team was going through a training exercise when they'd been called. Their response time was quicker than normal, since they'd already been assembled and dressed. All they'd had to do was exchange their dummy rounds for live ones.

Bear was back quickly with two radios, the vests and a cloth bag. Meanwhile, Gage had made it back to the squad truck and grabbed the rope. After checking both radios again to be sure they worked, Bear placed one of them in a cloth bag and began to wrap the end of the rope around it. A hand on his arm stopped him. He looked up at his sergeant.

"That's a long way away. You'd have to stand up to toss the rope that far."

"And you'd be standing there with a bullseye on your chest," added Roy.

"We can lay down some cover fire," Getraer said. Gage and DeSoto exchanged glances, then nodded in silent agreement.

"Since you're gonna do that anyway," Johnny said. "Why don't we just join them over there?"

"What do you mean?" asked Getraer.

"While you lay down cover fire, Roy and I will make a dash. We'll take one radio with us and we'll leave the biophone. Chet or Marco can relay vitals for us. We can take one end of the rope with us, that way if we need any more equipment, you can tie if off and we can bring it to us."

Hank Stanley heard the last part of Gage's statement as he crawled toward them, Poncharello at his side. Hank had seen them don the vests that Bear had brought back, and knew something was about to happen. Getraer looked at Stanley.

"What do you think?"

"You guys sure you want to do this?" Stanley asked his men.

"Cap, Bonnie and Jon can't afford for us to wait until those guys are ready to give up. Maybe we can't move them out of there, but at least we can get treatment started, maybe stop them from bleeding to death or dying from shock," Johnny said.

After just a moment's hesitation, Stanley nodded his assent.

"I'm going with you," Ponch said quietly. Everyone looked at him. "I'm not gonna argue about it. Jon's my partner and I'm going with you." He stared at Getraer, daring him to say no. But Joe just nodded.

"I'll spread the word about what we're gonna do. Wait for us to start firing."

It took about ten minutes before everyone was briefed on what was about to happen. Chet had moved over behind the patrol car and opened up the biophone. He made contact with Rampart and apprised them of the situation. Dixie McCall answered, assuring Kelly that they would be standing by.

One of the SWAT marksmen would also be joining the tiny contingent of rescuers, hoping to get a good angle on the suspects from behind the other vehicle. The paramedics gripped their equipment and Ponch grabbed the end of the rope. He would play it out behind him. They waited as the SWAT negotiator tried to talk the men into surrendering once more before the daring plan was attempted. He was answered with gunfire. The officers returned the fire for a steady minute, forcing the two men to once again pull behind the shelter of their overturned car. As soon as they ducked back down, Getraer signaled the four men who quickly ran, hunched over, and slid up behind Bonnie's patrol unit.

Bonnie was laying on her stomach, her body mostly sheltered behind the front tire, gun in hand, keeping watch from where she was. She glanced back as the men joined her. She had blood on her left sleeve and small cuts on her face and neck.

"Bonnie, are you okay?" Frank asked.

"I'm fine. Took one in the arm. Mostly just cut by flying glass. Jon's hurt bad though." She moved back slightly to give the SWAT sniper room to maneuver, trying to find the best vantage point. He knew they were also trying to work some men behind the suspects, but were blocked by the design of the overpass. They couldn't get anybody around the concrete without them being exposed to the two men behind the car.

Gage and DeSoto were already working on Baker. Johnny cut his shirt open to get a better look at the wounds on his torso, while Roy reached for his wrist to check his pulse. Baker was unconscious and pale. He was in bad shape. He'd taken a bullet in the chest, one in the left side, and one in the left leg. He'd lost a great deal of blood. Roy relayed the vitals to Chet, who passed them on to Rampart. Then he relayed Dr. Bracket's instructions to Roy. IV's were established, bandages applied, medications given.

DeSoto then took a look at Clark's arm. He found that the bullet had passed cleanly through. He wrapped the arm and administered an IV just to be safe. Twenty minutes later, they still sat behind the car with two injured officers, one pissed off and worried partner, and a frustrated SWAT sniper.

Behind the blockade of patrol cars Getraer conferred with his lieutenant and the SWAT leader. They still hadn't figured out a way to get the suspects out from behind their cover.

They retreated behind the fire engine, hoping to get a better view of the situation. The

SWAT commander, Sgt Mike Potter, climbed into the hose bed, slowly making his way forward. The extra height of the engine gave him a clear view, but he didn't see any other avenues open to his men.

As he climbed back down he glanced at the men around him, shaking his head. Frustration was evident on all their faces.

"I think we're gonna have to make an all out assault. Just go in firing and hope they feel overwhelmed enough to throw their weapons down," he said. "We have to move fast if that officer is to have any kind of chance." They all knew the seriousness of Baker's situation and knew that if he wasn't hospitalized soon, he would probably die. But the idea of rushing the two men left the real possibility of more officers being shot. No one liked that option. And Getraer knew Jon would hate the idea of someone else being hurt just to rescue him.

"What about using the hose?" a voice asked. .

Everyone turned to look at the source of the suggestion. Marco Lopez stood there quietly.

"Using it how?" the SWAT man asked.

"Against the car. It's not real stable. If we can get a good hard stream of water on it, it would probably topple right over. Then they'd have nothing to hide behind. They would have to surrender then, wouldn't they?"

No one spoke for almost a full minute, each running the unlikely scenario through their heads. The three law enforcement men exchanged glances.

"How close would you need to be?" Potter asked.

"About fifty feet," answered Stanley.

"Then we can't do it. I can't let your men walk in that close with just a hose."

"I can get the engine that close," Mike Stoker insisted. He and Lopez had been standing around, waiting for something to happen. Kelly was still up by the patrol cars playing relay service between the paramedics and Rampart. Stoker and Lopez finally had the chance to help end the stand-off. "The engine is tall and from their positions they probably won't be able to get a good shot off at me. I'll crouched down in the seat as far as I can. The engine block will protect me. Captain Stanley and Marco can handle the hose. And the engine is long enough that several of your men can walk beside and behind it as we get close. That way, once the car goes over, you'll be closer."

"What do you think, Hank?" Getraer asked Stanley.

"I think it could work. But I will need to let headquarters know what we have planned." He walked off to the side and got on his portable radio, telling dispatch what they had in mind. The others waited anxiously, a tiny glimmer of hope finally settling in their bellies.

Gage and DeSoto waited. They'd heard Stanley call HQ over their portable and knew what was being planned. _I hope they get started soon_, Gage thought. _Jon_ _can't afford to wait much longer_. He looked back down at his friend, checking his pulse once more_. Hang in there, Baker. It's almost over_.

Bonnie was looking a bit weary as well. She was covered with dirt and blood, some of it hers, but most of it Jon's. It had been more than an hour since she'd put her patrol car between Jon and the two men firing on him. Now that she had company in her vigil, the adrenaline rush had worn off and she was just tired.

"How's Jon doing?" she asked, eyes closed and her head leaning against the patrol car.

"He's hanging in there," Gage said, but when she opened her eyes she saw the concerned look he exchanged with his partner. The sniper had settled into a spot near the front bumper of the car, while Ponch was on the ground near the rear. Frank tried to keep an eye on the suspect vehicle, but found his gaze continually darting back to his partner.

Damn. How had this day turned out so bad? They'd chased the drunk driver until he crashed. They were finishing up on the scene. Jon had been heading to his motor to radio in that they would be going to the hospital for statements. They heard squealing tires and heard shots. Everyone hit the deck, taking cover behind a patrol car or down the embankment. But Jon had been out in the open, the only cover around was his motorcycle, which was barely any cover at all.

Ponch could still see him flying back and slamming down onto the shoulder of the road. But he had his gun out and was firing as he rolled over. Ponch wasn't sure if Jon managed to hit a tire or if the driver just lost control of the vehicle, but it flipped once and landed on its side against the abutment under the overpass. Both men managed to crawl from the car and started shooting at Jon, who was trying to make it to the small ravine along the shoulder.

That's when he took the shot in his leg and went down again.

The two men kept shooting until Bonnie jumped in her patrol car and drove it between them and Baker, coming under fire herself then. The unit ended up front end tipped down in the ditch and Bonnie scrambled out the passenger door and dragged Jon fully behind cover. And they stayed there until the others made their way to them.

Bonnie had saved Jon's life. Ponch only hoped this would end quickly enough that her efforts hadn't been wasted. _Don't think like that Ponch_, he admonished himself. _Jon's gonna make it. After all of this, he has to make it_.

It had grown eerily quiet in the last few minutes. Quiet enough that the sound of the fire engine starting up shattered the silence like another gunshot. The tension was still there, but it was an anticipatory tension now, one of expectation and hope. One of climax. Shoving all his doubts aside, Frank flexed his fingers around the grip of his weapon and waited for the end of this nightmare.

The engine crept slowly around the left shoulder, bypassing the multitude of police cars. The decision had been made to approach from just one direction. They didn't want anyone caught in the crossfire, so the units waiting on the overpass and further up on the southbound lanes of the highway would stay put. If the suspects ran, they would be in position to intercept them. Several police officers walked behind the engine. So did three firefighters.

The SWAT sniper with Baker and the others lay ready. Another was stretched on the rear of the hose bed atop the engine. Stanley and Marco had already pulled what hose they would need and Kelly would handle the gauges and dials, assuring that they would have force they needed.

As they got close, the men behind the car started taking wild shots at the engine. Mike Stoker was almost laying down on the seat, wearing a kevlar vest and a police riot helmet. He guided the engine from instructions relayed to him over the radio from an officer watching from a distance, directing him to the best possible position.

On a signal from Potter, several selected officers lay down cover fire. He then signaled Kelly who charged the line. Stanley and Lopez braced themselves. Hank had the nozzle, calling it Captain's Prerogative, putting himself in the forefront. Lopez tapped him on the shoulder and Stanley turned the nozzle and moved toward the front of the engine, stopping when the vehicle was in sight.

A stream blasted from the hose. Stanley aimed for the side of the vehicle that wasn't leaning against the concrete pillar. The car rocked and a yelp could be heard faintly over the rush of water. It began to wobble back and forth. The men behind the car were apparently trying to keep it upright. But their strength couldn't match the power from water.

The car began to tip. Stanley kept the hose steady, watching for the car to reach a point of no return. As it started to topple over he reached to shut off the nozzle. But a movement from behind the car caught his eye. The men had backed away from the car before it fell over, but still had weapons in hand and aimed them at the fire engine. Stanley readjusted the aim, going straight for the two men. They fell, sputtering from the blast of water.

Officers converged on the downed men. Stanley turned off the stream and waited until the police had both men secured before turning to Kelly and signaling him to shut down. Shouts could be heard. Orders to the prisoners to "Turn around! Hands out to your side! Get on your feet!" And yells to "get that ambulance in here!" Getraer and Potter raced over to the patrol car where the injured officers had holed up.

Getraer kneeled down next to the paramedics as the sniper helped Bonnie to her feet. She was slightly dizzy and almost fell, but he grabbed her around the waist to steady her. She took a deep breath and got her bearings back, nodding a thank you to the sniper. Glancing at his name tag she saw his name was D. Reed. She started to say something to him, but Baricza and Grossie both rushed up offering to help her to the waiting ambulance. She didn't think she needed the help, but was grateful they were close by anyway. Reed gave her a smile then ran off to join his team.

Gage and DeSoto moved Jon Baker onto a stretcher, then wheeled him over to and into the same ambulance. They would both ride in with the ambulance, Kelly would follow them in the squad.

* * *

It took just under six minutes to get to the emergency entrance of Rampart General. Dr. Kel Brackett and Dixie waiting outside the entrance. Dr. Joe Early joined them there. As the ambulance backed in, Early and Brackett reached for the doors. They opened to a shout of "He stopped breathing!"

They quickly pulled the stretcher out and began rolling it into a treatment room. Brackett ordered Roy to intubate, while Dixie got a new set of vitals. Then Jon's heart stopped too.

Johnny hopped up onto the gurney's bottom rails and began chest compressions as they wheeled the injured officer into an exam room. A nurse pulled over the defibrillator and charged it up. Brackett reached for the paddles and held them out while the nurse squeezed some gel onto them. He rubbed them together while the nurse counted up the charge on the machine.

"400!"

"Clear!" Brackett called. The others moved back while Brackett placed the paddles in position and pressed the button to send the charge. Jon's body jerked, but no heartbeat was seen on the scope. Gage returned to his compressions. "Again!" Brackett called. The life-saving dance was played out twice more before the beeps signaling a good heartbeat were heard. "We've got him back. Let's get to work people."

The medical team stabilized Baker and then he was taken up to surgery. By the time the group exited the exam room, the emergency room was crawling with police officers. They were everywhere.

Getraer and Poncharello started asking Brackett questions as soon as he came out of the room. He filled them in as quickly as he could while hurrying down the corridor.

"That's all I can tell you now. We'll know more when we get him up to surgery and I'll have someone keep you updated. But I have to go now. We need to get him into the OR."

He stepped into the elevator behind the stretcher and the other medical staff and the doors closed.

Frustrated by what he deemed a lack of information, Ponch cursed and slammed his hand against the closed elevator doors.

"Easy, Frank," Getraer told him. "I know you want to know exactly what's going on, but right now the important thing is getting Jon the medical help he needs."

Ponch leaned his head against the doors and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know Sarge. But he looked so bad. And it took us so long to get him here."

"Yeah. Look, Frank, why don't you go check on Bonnie. She's probably anxious to hear what's going on. I'm gonna go upstairs and see Turner, let him know happened. I'm sure this has been on the news and he's probably beside himself by now."

Frank just nodded and headed down the hall. About half way to the exam room where Bonnie was being treated, he stopped and turned.

"Sarge, tell Jed…tell him…tell him that's Jon's gonna be okay. Tell him that I'll be up to see him later, okay?"

"I will. But I'm sure he'll understand if you wait until Jon's out of surgery. Now go check on Bonnie."

Getraer watched him walk down the hall and push open the door to the exam room. He shook his head and leaned against the wall. Three officers down within a week. Jed was fine, due to be released in a couple of days. And Bonnie's wound seemed relatively minor considering the situation. But Jon Baker…damn…it was bad. He had known it just looking at him. When Gage and DeSoto had told them that Jon's heart had stopped…well, Joe's heart had almost stopped too. Baker was one of his men, but he was also a good friend. And a damn good cop.

"You better pull through this Baker," he said softly. "I need you on the streets. Your partner needs you and so do your friends." He pushed away from the wall and punched the 'up' button. He would go visit Jed then find a quiet place to make a phone call. Jon Baker didn't have any family here. He would need to call the station to get the number for Jon's folks that was in his file. They lived in Wyoming and would probably insist on flying out. He debated whether he should wait until they learned more. But decided to call with what he had.

A shoot out on an LA County highway would be big news across the country. He didn't want Jon's family learning about this via some news report. He would make the call himself. It wasn't just his duty as Jon's boss, but as his friend. He'd met Jon's mom and dad when they came to visit a couple of years before. They were wonderful people and he understood where Baker had inherited his quiet strength. The elevator doors opening to let him off on Jed's floor interrupted his silent reflections. First things first. Check on Turner, let him know what's going on. Then a call to Jon's folks and Bonnie's sister, who lived in Sacramento.

Two days later, the ICU waiting room was stilled filled with friends and family of Jon Baker. He'd made it through surgery…barely. Dr. Brackett told them that Jon had coded twice more on the table, but they were able to bring him back each time. But it had been close.

He was slowly getting stronger, but wasn't quite out of danger yet. He'd been lucky in that the bullets hadn't done any major damage. The round in his leg was removed easily as was the one in his side. The slug in his chest had cracked a couple of ribs which splintered, one piece nicking his lung. That damage had been repaired, but they were keeping a close eye on him so that pneumonia didn't set in.

Jon's folks had arrived the night of the shooting and had been kept company in the waiting room by an ever changing roster of friends. Bonnie and Ponch were there of course, as were Bear and Grossie when they weren't on duty. And Jed Turner came down in a wheelchair from his hospital room. He was due to be released the next day. And Joe Getraer spent many hours there, as did his wife Betty.

And they were joined by the members of Station 51's "A" shift whenever the firefighters could make it. They'd all been friends before this incident, but having been such a huge part of the rescue, they all felt an even deeper kinship of sorts with the officers. These men had risked their lives to save the lives of two police officers. They were welcomed into the law enforcement family as kindred spirits. And welcomed into the Baker family as full fledged members. The doctors had told them how desperate the situation had been. Jon's parents knew that if it hadn't ended when it did, Jon would have died on that bloody pavement.

Jon's mom was regaling everyone with humorous stories from his youth when Dr. Brackett walked into the room. They all looked up, the amusement leaving their faces.

"He's coming around," Brackett said, adding his smile to the once that resurfaced on the faces around him. "We're doing a quick check on him, then you can go in and see him," he told Jon's folks. "His vitals are much stronger. We're still going to keep him in ICU a few more days, but if he continues to improve, he'll be moved into a regular room by the end of the week."

"So, does that mean he's gonna be okay?" Ponch asked.

"That means, he's improving. His condition is still critical, but he is getting better. If he keeps getting stronger, I'll upgrade his condition tomorrow."

The hugging began in earnest. Jon's mom hugged his dad, then she hugged Brackett. Then...she just hugged everybody. She even hugged family member of other ICU patients that she had befriended over the last two days. When she hugged the mother of a small boy who had been hit by a car, she whispered, "I told you miracles happen. The next one goes to your Petey."

"I'm so happy for your son. And I'm glad you had so many wonderful people to be here with you."

"Just remember, you aren't alone either. I'll be here for you as long as I'm in town. And you have my home number, so that when we go back to Wyoming, you keep in touch and let us know how Petey is doing."

"I'll keep you in my prayers, you and your Jon." They released their embrace as Joe Early came into the room told them they could visit Jon.

As Mr. and Mrs. Baker left the room, the others exchanged goofy grins and expressions of relief. Getraer called the station to give them the good news, knowing it would spread faster than a summer fire in the California foothills.

**Epilogue/one week later**

"Jon, I'm telling you, you should have seen Bon-Bon. She jumped in that car and sped through a barrage of gunfire. Bam-Bam! Squealing tire!" Poncharello was animated, using hand gestures and sound effects to paint the picture of Baker's daring rescue.

"Ponch, I was there remember. I know the danger Bonnie put herself in to save my life."

"Danger?! Danger?! She was awesome, Jon. You shoulda seen it from where I was! She's gonna get a medal for this ya know!"

"Yes, I know," Jon said with a smile, "And she deserves it. She really put her life on the line there. She's a good cop."

"The best." Ponch finally settled down and pulled up a chair, straddling it backwards. "So when are they gonna let you outta here?"

"Probably be a couple more days. Since I won't be able to use crutches really easily because of the broken ribs, they want to wait until they can give me a walking cast. That'll probably be day after tomorrow, when the stitches in my leg come out."

"Cool. Just let me know, and I'll be here to give you a ride home."

Before Jon could answer, Bonnie Clark walked in, followed by a man Jon had never seen before. He was a tall, dark haired man, with an easy smile. Ponch thought he looked familiar, but couldn't place where he'd seen him. Bonnie's arm was still in a sling for another few days, on orders from the doctor .

"Bonnie, my hero," Jon said with a grin.

"Jon, how are you feeling?" she asked, coming over and leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm great. I was just telling Ponch, I should be released in a few days."

"That's wonderful! We should have a party. Did Ponch tell you that the officers in San Francisco and Sacramento were able to positively identify the shooters as the same ones in the attacks there. They got the ballistics report back too and a couple of the weapons they had in their car matched with the ones used in those shootings. The FBI is also checking out other similar shootings of police officers around the country over the last six months to see if any others match up."

"Joe told me when he came in this morning. He also told me you've been recommended for an Medal of Valor. Congratulations. You deserve it. You saved my life Bonnie, thank you."

"You'd have done the same for me, Jon Baker. Oh, and the guys from Station 51 are all going to get awards from CHP as well. Those guys really came through for us." She turned to the man standing by the door. "David, I'd like you to meet the man you helped save last week. Jon Baker, this is David Reed. David, Jon. One of my closest friends, and one of the best cops you'll ever meet."

As they shook hands, Ponch finally remembered where he'd met the man. "Oh, right, you were the SWAT guy who was at the car with us. Now I remember. Hey, man, thanks for helping us out." He reached over and shook Reed's hand as well.

"I was just doing my job, like my big brother taught me."

"Big brother?" asked Jon.

"David's brother is Jim Reed. He works with LAPD."

"Jim Reed? Lt. Jim Reed? He's like a legend in LAPD."

"Yep, that's my big brother. One of the best cops in the state."

"He taught me at the academy," Jon said. "Boy, did he have some stories. He really made the job sound interesting, but never let us forget about the dangers, ya know?"

Bonnie sat down on the edge of Jon's bed, while David perched against the empty bed in the room. They talked about the case. Getraer had found out that the two suspects were wanted for police shootings in Georgia and Texas. The men were brothers who had been in and out of jail for most of their lives and just didn't like cops.

They never would explain why they shot only three officers each time, but the feds figured that they left after three, because by then things would tend to get too hot for them to stay in town. So they moved on. The brothers admitted that they had planned to stay around LA longer, since they figured they would be able to get lost in the huge city. And they weren't planning on concentrating on highway patrol officers this time around. LAPD was next on their hit list.

The foursome talked well into the evening, eventually turning the talk to more light hearted topics. The laughter echoed out into the halls at times. As Dixie passed by on her way down the hall, she smiled. It had been touch and go there for a while for Jon Baker. She was glad to hear the happy sounds coming from that room. It sure beat the alternative.

THE END


End file.
